


Off and On - Mean & Burning

by run_sure_footed



Series: Before Kipo [10]
Category: Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (Cartoon)
Genre: Break Up, Fear of Drowning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Make Up, Poisoning, Possible Hallucination, Stitches, fictional toxic chemical, romantic confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/run_sure_footed/pseuds/run_sure_footed
Summary: Here's the next instalment of Off and On, our series of break-ups/make-ups between Harris and Jamack.Poor Kwat is so sick of these two sometimes.
Relationships: Harris/Jamack (Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts)
Series: Before Kipo [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878325
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Off and On - Mean & Burning

_Mean_

Kwat perched on top of the car, listening to Jamack and Harris argue inside, the dragonfly pulling them down the street at an even clip. Jamack and Harris had been sniping at each other all day, and more viciously than usual. They had been getting along decently for a very long time now, more than a year, and she had been hoping it wouldn’t devolve into another fight and subsequent break up. It seemed to be going that way, however.

“Shut the fuck up!” Harris snapped. He was tempted to punch Jamack right in his smug face, but instead he climbed out the window to sit on top of the car beside Kwat. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, trying to make it clear with his body language that he wasn’t interested in a conversation with her.

Jamack seethed. He was tempted to swerve and knock Harris off the top of the car, but knowing him, he’d stick and Kwat would go flying. Not worth it.

Kwat gave Harris a look, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Harris shuffled so he was turned even farther away from Kwat, his whole body pointed away from her, not just his head.

Kwat knocked on the roof. “Looks like a camp. We’ll check it out. Stay with the car.” Normally she didn’t lead the three of them, Jamack was the one who preferred that role, but this wasn’t about work so much as it was about surviving the next few weeks…to months…with Harris and Jamack. As much as she hated it, she knew her and Harris needed to talk.

Jamack stopped the car. He pulled out his cigarette case and lit a cigarette, nodding to Kwat as she hopped down. He could use a break from his colleagues.

She waited for Harris to follow.

Harris cursed both of them under his breath. He suspected Kwat was just trying to get him alone to talk to him, or at least to get him away from Jamack, but he couldn’t think of a good excuse to refuse what was, on the surface, a reasonable suggestion. In earlier years he would have told Kwat to take Jamack with her, but now that idiot technically outranked him and Kwat. Jamack could sit there in the car and smoke while they went out and did all the work. Typical.

Kwat hopped up to a fire escape on one side of the nearest building. The window was barely big enough for her to squeeze through, but she made it. The camp was pretty obviously old, but it was worth checking for supplies. She waited until Harris had joined her before speaking. “What happened between you two?”

“What are you talking about?” Harris grumbled as he dug through piles of garbage, rotting leaves, and burned wood, looking for anything useful. He let out a little crow of triumph, holding up his prize—a first-aid kit. The cloth kit itself was stained, faded, and worn, but the contents were more or less intact when he opened it.

She nodded with approval upon seeing his find. “The two of you are arguing a lot lately.”

Harris’ triumphant smile faded away, his mouth drawing into a tight, flat line. He threw the kit down and kept looking. “We always argue.”

“Yes. Usually you’re playfully cruel. Today you’re _genuinely_ cruel.”

He flinched but didn’t look up at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything is the same. Nothing has changed.”

She gave him a long look. “Have you broken up yet?” She was almost certain she was right. They were either right on the edge of a break up, or still riding the wake of it.

“Kwat!” The question was completely unacceptable. His grip tightened on the old plastic bottle he was holding, crushing it with a loud crunch.

She shrugged. It was just the two of them here. She already knew about the relationship. If she had to put up with these two fighting, she at least wanted to know where they stood. “You’re always the one to end it,” she remarked. It wasn’t a question.

Harris stood, very calmly and deliberately, dusted off his hands, picked up the first-aid kit, and pushed past her.

Kwat grabbed him by the shoulder, holding him away from the window. “It was worse this time. Why?” Maybe it had just gotten too serious after so long together. They’d made it through two mating seasons together, more than a year. She didn’t understand why they kept breaking up. She _also_ didn’t understand why they kept coming back to each other, besides the fact that the morons made each other happy. They also made each other miserable. Misery seemed to be winning right now.

“Let me _go_!” He pushed at her arm, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. Maybe if he bit her…

Kwat sighed, releasing his shoulder. “You’ll just end up together again. Why bother hurting each other?”

Harris went very still, hands balled into fists. “Shut. Up. Right now.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” he said icily.

“I don’t want this to ruin our working relationship.” It was a little more than that. She was concerned for them personally, but she was more concerned that a break between them, a serious and permanent fracture, would shatter their group. It was difficult to be friends with both of them when they were fighting so viciously. They tried to draw her into the arguments, to make her choose a side, and she refused to be a pawn in their relationship drama. They had, the three of them, been a trio since they were Froglets. She couldn’t lose that.

Kwat briefly shut her eyes, letting her frustration slip away. “Fine. Take a break from patrols until you two stop fighting. I’ll cover them.” She turned and left, not caring to see Harris’ reaction.

_Burning_

Kwat came down from the office, having finished writing her report on the last three hours on patrol. She immediately went to the medic, looking around for Jamack. He wasn’t there. She stopped the medic as he passed. “Where’s Jamack?”

“He hasn’t been in today. Is he hurt?”

Kwat didn’t answer. She was already on her way out. She checked the bar first, then a few of his other regular spots, and finally she resorted to asking the Frogs perched on the bridge overhead who kept an eye on the Pond. They told her nothing useful. They hadn’t been watching for Jamack specifically.

When Kwat and Jamack patrolled together, they often found Harris at the range when they returned, busily keeping his skills sharp, avoiding boredom. That was the next place she went, looking for her other colleague now. His height and big red eyes always made him easy to find. “Harris,” she called, waving him over.

After Harris finished running the obstacle course he joined her, breathing a little heavily. “Yeah?”

She drew him aside, somewhere they wouldn’t be overheard. “You know where Jamack’s burrow is,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

Harris froze, staring at her in horror. He forced out a laugh. “Wh-what? Why would I know that?”

Kwat had an unusual look on her face—concern. “We came back early for a reason. When we were on patrol, Jamack went to check out what looked like abandoned supplies. We thought maybe humans had been there. Whoever it was, they left a trap. Jamack got drenched in some kind of chemical. I told him to go to the medic while I wrote our report, but he didn’t. I think he might have gone to his burrow.”

Harris’ eyes widened. “What? Why would he…? That fucking _idiot_!” He looked a little embarrassed. “I…might know where to find him,” he admitted. He looked her up and down. “You won’t be able to come with me.”

She nodded. She’d expected as much. “Should I wait for you?” Harris _might_ be able to get Jamack out of his burrow, but she wasn’t sure. If Jamack’s burrow was particularly hard to get into, Harris might not be able to move him.

He thought for a moment. “Yeah. I might need your help getting him to the medic once I find him. Wait—” He didn’t want to put her somewhere too obvious, somewhere she’d be able to figure out where the burrow was. Jamack hadn’t told her, so he wasn’t going to. She wouldn’t be able to fit, but it still wouldn’t be right. “—here. I’ll let you know.” He wanted to drop to all fours and hop, which was faster, but he forced himself to stay on his feet the way he should.

Kwat started pacing, but she kept stopping herself. It didn’t look good to be so clearly concerned about anything. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited. For now, all she could do was wait for news from Harris.

It took Harris longer than he wanted to find the right lily pad, line it up with the right part of the bank. He’d only been to Jamack’s burrow once, more than four years earlier. He swallowed hard, eyeing the water nervously. If he was wrong, he might drown before he could surface.

He closed his eyes. Opened them again. Filled his lungs. Slipped beneath the water. It felt so good on his skin, but he had to fight his brain telling him to breathe in, that he needed _air_. He was _fine_.

He pulled himself along the ‘ribs’ on the underside of the lily pad until he hit the bank. A brief moment of terror—was he in the wrong place? Had Jamack moved his burrow and filled in the hole?—and then he saw the opening. Jamack _hadn’t_ hidden his burrow after he’d let Harris into it. That made Harris feel…strange.

He thrashed his way inside, half-swimming, half-crawling up the narrow passage until his head emerged into air. He gulped it down, sinking underwater a few times before he managed to climb out.

There was a still form on the nest of cloth and moss. “…Jamack?”

Jamack made a terse, dismissive sound. His skin stung, his muscles, even down to his bones, seemed to throb. The discomfort was impossible to ignore. He had very little sense of where he was, aware only that someone was here to disturb him. He felt strange, as though the world was blurred around him, a little distant.

At first, when Kwat had gotten him back in the car, his skin had _burned_. He hadn’t undressed, hadn’t shed the clothes where the chemicals had landed on him. Maybe he should have, but they were so close to the Pond and he would have to be dressed by the time they got back. Most of his body had just felt horribly hot. Was that what mammals felt like all the time? It was awful.

But by the time they’d gotten back to the Pond, the pain was more of a prickling. He’d been briefly worried that this was bad, that it meant that his skin had mostly absorbed whatever chemical had been dumped on him, but soon enough he was in the water. Kwat had told him something, but his internal effort to remain stoic had made it difficult to parse.

Maybe he’d gone into the water with the thought of rinsing off before going to the medic, but once he was there it felt automatic to go to his burrow. The pain had moved deeper once he’d rinsed himself off, his muscles hurting like he’d overexerted himself for hours. He dragged himself into his burrow and curled up. He was sore, and tired, and he just wanted to try and sleep through the worst of it.

“Idiot,” Harris said fondly, reasonably certain Jamack wouldn’t remember this later. He put a hand beneath each of Jamack’s arms and tried to pull him off the nest. He barely moved. He tried pushing him, but he just wasn’t large enough to move someone more than four times his weight.

Jamack didn’t struggle, but he did let out a few protests and a soft croak. He curled up tighter once Harris released him.

Harris resisted the urge to try kicking him into the water—he was here to _help_ , after all, he reminded himself.

“I can’t move you, you fat toad!” He sat down to think for a moment. There was no way Kwat could fit down here, and there was no way he could get Jamack through the tunnel. A medic _might_ be able to get in, but he knew Jamack wouldn’t want that. He’d definitely have to move his burrow after that. He glanced at Jamack, then the tunnel, then back. Kwat was probably wearing a hole in a lily pad pacing with worry.

“Alright. I’m going to leave you, but just for a few minutes. I’ll go let Kwat know you’re ok. See what the medic suggests. Don’t you dare fucking die on me, or I’ll…kill you!”

Harris was panting again by the time he got back to Kwat. And he’d still have to go back up the fucking tunnel at least once more… He tried not to think about that. “I found him. He’s alive, but…well, it’s not good,” he said bluntly. “But I wanted to let you know I found him and he’s alive. I’m going to see the medic. Maybe he’ll have a plan?”

Kwat nodded. As she’d suspected, Harris couldn’t move him. At least he’d found him. If he hadn’t, Kwat would have had no idea where to look next. If she got more Frogs involved, Jamack would never live it down.

The medic was busy when Harris came in, stitching up a Froglet with a gash in her arm. When he glanced up and saw who it was, he knew immediately who it was about. “Did you and Kwat find Jamack?”

“I did. He’s, uh… _I_ need to help him. What can I do?” The Froglet was staring at him, but he ignored her.

“Kwat didn’t say what happened,” the medic prompted him, still pushing the curved needle through skin.

The Froglet kept silent, distracting herself from the pain with the excitement of whatever was happening with Harris.

“He—Kwat said he got something on his skin?” Harris motioned brushing something off his sleeve.

“Chemical?” the medic confirmed, nodding. “He’s been in clean water since then? Taken off any clothes with chemicals on them?”

Harris had to think quickly to make sure he wasn’t going to give away the location of Jamack’s burrow. “He was in the water. He’s in the air now. I could…splash water on him?”

The medic finished patching up the Froglet, standing to address Harris properly. “If he’s been submerged in water, there’s not much more I could do for him, especially without knowing what’s poisoned him.” He pumped water up from the Pond with a foot pump, washing his hands clean under it. He took a plastic jug full of water from his shelves and passed it to Harris. “Pour more water on him, especially if his skin looks red or peeling. I can’t give you much of an idea of his odds. If he was too confused to come here himself, that’s a bad sign.” He shook his head. “If either of you have painkiller, he might appreciate it.” Painkiller was a very sought-after commodity and the medic wasn’t going to waste any of his personal supplies on a Frog that might not live much longer.

Harris took the jug and nodded. He left without saying anything and hurried back to Jamack.

He’d barely stepped off the lily pad when he realized he’d made a huge mistake—the jug immediately started pulling him to the bottom of the Pond. He ‘swam’ as hard as he could, but he was beginning to panic. He let go of the jug and managed to climb the lily pad stem and get closer to the surface. He was still stuck beneath the lily pad, but he could once again pull himself along it to the bank, and this time he knew where to look for the hole. He found a rhythm with his legs to propel him through the tunnel this time, but he was gasping when he emerged into the open. And he didn’t have the jug. There was no way he could get it now. He’d just have to make do.

“Jamack?” he whispered, not sure why he was whispering.

Jamack mumbled something, rolling just slightly to look at Harris. His third eyelids were closed.

He had something colourful in his arms. It was the red eyed tree frog toy Harris had seen last time he was here.

Harris resisted the urge to rip the toy out of Jamack’s hands and throw it in the water. Unless… He gently pulled it free of Jamack’s grip, struggling a little when Jamack wouldn’t let go. He submerged the thing in water, grinning with pleasure when it came out heavier and dripping wet. He set it down and began undressing Jamack. It was difficult and he was grunting and cursing by the time he’d gotten Jamack down to his undershirt and briefs. “Good enough,” he muttered.

He didn’t see anything until he pulled the undershirt up, wincing at the large, angry patches it had been hiding. He picked up the toy and gently dabbed it on Jamack’s skin, pulling it away when Jamack flinched. He wrung it out, spilling clean water across the burn.

Jamack smacked Harris away, feebly and unsuccessfully. “Stop that,” he groaned. The cool water seemed to bring him a little clarity. “Harris?” He looked around, unsure what was happening. He was in his burrow, he was sure, but _Harris_ was here. That wasn’t possible, that couldn’t be real. Which part of this was he hallucinating? Was he with the medic? Was he alone in his burrow? Maybe he’d never even made it back to the Pond, maybe he was just dying in the passenger seat of their car beside Kwat.

“Yeah!” Harris replied, relieved. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Is this real?” Maybe Harris wasn’t the right person to ask, since _he_ might not be real, but Jamack couldn’t think of a better question and there didn’t seem to be anyone else here to ask. His third eyelids blinked slowly, but remained low-lidded. He groaned, flopping back onto his soft pile limply. Even keeping his head up was hard. It felt like he should be bruised all over.

Anywhere his eyes landed, it seemed like everything was moving slightly. It made him a little dizzy but he couldn’t just close his eyes and make it go away. Not until he was sure he was safe.

“Yes. It’s real.” The toy had stopped dripping, so Harris dipped it in the water again and brought it back.

Jamack made what he thought was a monumental effort to push him away, but in reality he barely raised his hand to flap at Harris. He wasn’t sure if the answer he’d gotten was worth anything, since he was still baffled as to how his burrow could have Harris in it. Besides the plush version of him, of course. He’d had him here, once, yes, but that had been _years_ ago. Harris wouldn’t just come into his burrow.

_Oh_. But he was sick, he was hurt. Harris had come to take care of him, he realized as he watched Harris squeeze water onto his poor burned skin. Jamack smiled, then gritted his teeth as more water flushed his skin. The prickling seemed to be fading, at least, but the deep ache wasn’t going anywhere.

Harris travelled back and forth several more times with water until Jamack’s breathing grew steadier and less laboured. He slumped beside Jamack, leaning against the back wall of the burrow, completely spent. He put the stupid toy on top of Jamack’s burn, where it would hopefully feel nice and cool if nothing else.

“Is it bad?” Jamack asked softly. It was probably bad, if Harris was here taking care of him.

“It’s…not good,” Harris replied just as softly. “But I think you’re doing better than when I first found you.”

“Everything hurts,” Jamack admitted. Saying it aloud sparked something in his mind, which still felt quite a bit slower than usual. “Painkiller…” He had some, he was sure. He kept some in his secret stash, like most Mod Frogs did, along with a little food and other emergency necessities. It only took him a second to decide that Harris wasn’t going to abuse the knowledge if he showed him where to dig. He realized he’d said the word ‘painkiller’ aloud and nothing afterwards. “Oh. They’re there.” He pointed to a small gap in the mossy wall.

Harris’ eyes widened. Not only had Jamack told him where to find his burrow, now he was telling him where to find one of his most precious belongings! He’d think about that later. Right now, he had to take care of Jamack.

He dug out a waterproof box, searched it, and pulled out a small tub of petroleum jelly. The medic made the painkiller by mixing crushed pills with the goo so injured Frogs could absorb it through their skin and they could simply apply it where it was needed.

Harris scooped some out on his fingers—it made them feel a little tingly. “I’m sorry if this hurts,” he apologized, spreading it across Jamack’s damaged skin as gently as he could.

It did sting, but Jamack gave a soft laugh. “You’re much gentler than the medic,” he teased. “But you’re like that…just with me.” It was a secret part of Harris that Jamack treasured.

“I could be rougher,” Harris said dryly. “And my _bat_ is gentler than the medic.”

“You won’t be,” Jamack said, as though it was indisputable.

“Mm-hmm.” Harris applied a little more pressure.

Jamack was quiet for a minute. He wasn’t sure if he was just feeling loopy from whatever had gotten absorbed through his skin, or if it was from being alone with Harris in his burrow, but he was finding it hard to keep the words from coming out of his mouth. “I missed you. Missed touching you,” he confessed. He didn’t reach out to touch him now, but he wanted to. It had been about eight months since their last break-up, by far their longest separation since they’d started this wonderful and horrible relationship. It had taken them a long time just to regain their friendship. They had spent a lot of time apart at first.

“I—” Harris gulped air. “I missed you too,” he finally admitted. Jamack wouldn’t remember any of this, right?

He’d covered the burn thoroughly, but he wanted to touch Jamack again.

More.

He dipped out more salve and spread it across Jamack’s skin. His hand was trembling. It was a waste of painkiller, but Harris needed this.

Jamack struggled for a moment before moving his arm up, his hand resting on Harris’ skinny leg. There were a lot of things that he _felt_ about Harris, but some of them didn’t have words to describe them. Usually they just had sex and touched afterwards and were playfully cruel to each other. Words were a lot more vulnerable, and awkward. And if it was awkward for Jamack, he was sure it was far worse for Harris, who hated talking about anything even distantly emotional. He wanted to say all the things he felt—or, at least, he wanted Harris to _know_ how he felt—but he couldn’t manage it. Instead he gave the other Frog’s thigh a gentle squeeze.


End file.
